


It's Only Time

by pocky_slash



Series: Next of Kin [5]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Backstory, Established Relationship, Fanmix, M/M, Music, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>How could I stop loving you a hundred years from now?</i> Fifty-five years of musical history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Time

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://brewsternorth.livejournal.com/profile)[**brewsternorth**](http://brewsternorth.livejournal.com/) in the Mixtape Exchange. I hope you like it! Thanks to [](http://leiascully.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://leiascully.livejournal.com/)**leiascully** for the quick beta ♥

__

_Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile_  
 _Oh, and then the spell was cast_  
 _And here we are in heaven_  
 _For you are mine_  
 _At last_

It's been a long, exhausting trip with the Doctor. It's been so long that collapsing onto the couch and glancing at the date on the newspaper Rory bought in town makes her do a double-take. They've been gone a week in linear time. Only a week.

"You think I'd be used to time travel by now," Amy murmurs, tossing the paper onto the floor and putting her feet up on the table.

"What was that?" Rory asks, wandering into the living room. He's sorting the stack of post that was waiting for them upon their return. Most of it seems to be rubbish, but he's paused, staring at a particular cream envelope.

"What's that?" Amy asks, ignoring his earlier question.

"It's...from Canton," Rory says. "It's dated this week."

"So, linear Canton?" Amy asks. Post from Canton is exciting enough to warrant pulling herself up off the couch, and she grabs the envelope away from Rory, tearing it open gently. She pulls out a thick, tasteful invitation and smiles so big it hurts.

"What is it?" Rory asks, although he's smiling too and she thinks he's already guessed.

"Canton and David are getting married!" she exclaims. "In New York! In three weeks!"

For a split second, Rory looks like he's going to object, going to remind her that they've only just gotten home from what felt like months in the TARDIS, but before she can remind him that this is _Canton_ and _of course they're going_ he smiles.

"Think we can get the Doctor to give us a ride or should I start looking for last minute plane tickets?" he asks.

 *

_In the still of the night_  
 _I held you, held you tight_  
 _'Cause I love, love you so_  
 _Promise I'll never let you go_  
 _In the still of the night_  
 _(In the still of the night)_

"I talked to the DJ," Canton says. "I told him that we'll give him a list of songs that we absolutely want to hear." He says it while already nose-deep in something that is both obviously _not_ wedding related and obviously very involved. David sighs.

"So what you're saying is that _I_ need to come up with a list of songs that we absolutely want to hear and give it to you so you can give it to him?" David asks.

Canton glances at him, faux-casual, over the top of his glasses. "I'm pretty busy," he says. David leans over enough to get a better look at Canton's desk, which is covered in three cases he's consulting on. They've not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that he's playing Angry Birds on his phone under the desk.

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" David asks.

"Because it's been fifty-five years and you're too accustomed to this lifestyle to bother dating again," Canton says, but before David can rolls his eyes and abandon Canton to his work, Canton grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles. "And you like me a lot more than you like to admit to yourself."

"That's true," David admits. He leans against the back of Canton's chair and sighs. They're old. There's no escaping it. A disturbing number of their conversations start with, 'Do you remember...?' but that doesn't stop David from starting another one.

"Do you remember," he asks, "the first night you asked me back to your place?"

"I do," Canton says. He shakes his head. "I thought I was going to throw up. I'd never been that nervous in my life."

"You kept apologizing for the piles of books everywhere," David says. "And I'm glad you didn't actually throw up, because it probably would have made the night go a little differently."

Canton laughs. "I kept trying to play it cool, even after the sex, but I knew I couldn't stop grinning."

"And then you turned on the radio and that Five Satins song came on, just as we were drifting off," David continues. "You turned bright red and kept muttering about how you didn't _plan that_."

"I didn't," Canton says. "But, hey, it's been fifty-five years. Still haven't let you go. It was fortuitous, if nothing else." David leans over to kiss the top of Canton's head. The memory is so sharp in his mind, the sheepishness of Canton's smile, so different from the usual cocky attitude he possessed in their many conversations up to that point. He remembers how easy it was to step into his space and hold him still and kiss him and the way he smiled afterward, a real, bright, hopeful smile, the first of its kind that David had seen in their acquaintance.

He remembers, too, the way he thought as that song played that there were worse things than being held forever by Canton Delaware.

"Make sure that song's on the list," Canton says as David releases him.

"Already done," David assures him.

 *

_Why does my heart skip with a crazy beat_  
 _'Fore I know it will face defeat_  
 _Tell my why why_  
 _Why do they fall in love?_

Canton and his fucking gadgets. David's sure Canton's smiling smugly in his office, knowing that his TARDIS-inspired propensity for staying on top of the latest technological trends has once again proven a boon. He had all their music digitized years ago. David had rolled his eyes at the time, but it has proven useful. Both their record collections are contained neatly on the house computer, easily accessible from their laptops. They're legends at the local Apple Store. Apparently there aren't many couples in their seventies who keep up to date on the latest technology and even fewer who can out-genius the kids at the Genius Bar.

It's making this easier, of course, but he almost wishes it was harder, wishes he was sitting in a room surrounded by dusty old boxes of records instead of sitting at a computer and scanning haphazardly through fifty years of their history while keeping one eye on his email.

He doesn't even know where to start, scrolling absently through their massive music library. He sighs and leaves the mouse be, closing his eyes to scan through memories instead. It might be easier this way, thinking of the soundtrack of single moments.

Like their first fight. David sitting in his shitty apartment, listening to the radio and bemoaning the fact that he was head over heels for some stuck-up, snot-nosed rich white boy who apparently had no problem choosing some high society party over a date they had planned weeks ago.

In the present, he laughs and opens his eyes. Stupid. They were both stupid back then, stupid and young and wrapped up in themselves and the world's expectations for them. That fight would end when Canton showed up, drunk and soaked and pouting at one a.m., trying to explain what was done and what wasn't done and his complicated relationship with his father, all while waving his hands in complicated motions that he clearly thought would translate his drunken ramblings. At the time, David thought it was a stupid idea to let him stay the night, but he did anyway. Now he knows that's just Canton--stubborn and ridiculous and following his own fucked-up moral compass with intense loyalty to the people he calls his own, even if he doesn't agree with them half the time.

He puts his hand on the mouse again and adds "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" to a new playlist that he titles, with a shot of joy and trepidation, _wedding must-haves._

*

_You'll be older too,_  
 _And if you say the word,_  
 _I could stay with you._

"Don't forget to add a Beatles song!" Canton calls in from the hall. "Or, feel free to add more than one!"

"I'm not encouraging your crush on Paul McCartney!" David shouts back, but he remembers dancing around the living room of their first house on Canton's birthday and adds "When I'm Sixty-Four" anyway.

*

_If you should ever leave me_  
 _Though life would still go on believe me_  
 _The world could show nothing to me_  
 _So what good would living do me?_

David eventually abandons the computer to make himself a sandwich and sort through the mail, tossing junk and catalogs and setting aside a few stray (late) RSVPs. He gets distracted by the Times crossword, half finished, and sets out to fill in the remaining clues, even though he knows it drives Canton crazy.

Canton joins him before he's finished, sparing him a glare when he sees the puzzle, but mostly tied up in the phone call on his cell. He's smiling, which makes David curious. He raises his eyebrows and Canton just smirks, the smug bastard.

When he finally hangs up the phone, after a handful of vague noises and laughter, David gestures for him to share.

"The Ponds will be in attendance," Canton says.

David feels a smile tugging at his lips.

"They got the invite?"

"They did," Canton says. "We timed it just right. They're thrilled. They just got back from the trip to Avetage Seven, so no talking about anything past that."

"We should probably avoid talking about time and space travel entirely," David says dryly.

"Well, in front of other people, I guess," Canton concedes.

Of all the things he thought he would have to worry about if he ever got married, David never imagined crossing timelines would be one of them. He shakes his head in wonder.

He's always loved science fiction, always had his head in the stars, but he never imagined himself actually traveling through them. He didn't believe Canton when he first explained what had kept him so scattered and distant and away from home for so long. He thought it was a joke, a farce, the end of their relationship, that Canton was telling tales to avoid admitting his eye had wandered or that he had decided that being with David wasn't worth losing his job.

It wasn't the brightest moment in their relationship. It probably should have been--walking into the TARDIS for the first time should have been one of the highlights of his life and it _was_ , but it was offset by the anger and jealousy and frustration that had been boiling in his stomach for months. The fear that this chapter of his life was closing, that he was about to lose the most precious thing he had.

Walking out of the TARDIS for the first time made up for it. The view was beautiful, of course, but not quite as beautiful as the smile on Canton's face and the knowledge that he wasn't going to have to cut out a chunk of his heart and move on with his life.

He thinks about it all day, as they make a grocery list and call various contacts about wedding minutiae. On his way to bed that night, he ducks back into his office and adds another song to the wedding playlist.

*

_When something goes wrong_  
 _I'm the first to admit it_  
 _I'm the first to admit it_  
 _But the last one to know_  
 _when something goes right_  
 _Well it's likely to lose me_  
 _It's apt to confuse me_  
 _It's such an unusual sight_  
 _I can't get used to something so right_

He adds to the list throughout the week, finding that it's easier to go about his other business and pop in when he thinks of something particularly meaningful. He remembers, when gardening, the Kinks album that Canton actually wore out and the title song from the first movie they saw where David was brave enough to hold Canton's hand. Stupid things, but snatches of memory that make him smile as he goes about his day.

And when Canton disappears to the grocery store and gets back five hours later to a cold dinner after ignoring twelve reminder texts about Sally's visit, his sister teasingly makes a suggestion of her own.

"What was that Paul Simon song?" she asks while Canton turns on the stove to warm their dinner. "You know, the one we called 'Canton's song.' 'When something goes wrong I'm the first to admit it and the last to know?'"

The lyrics aren't exact, but David remembers the song, remembers fifty-five years of embarrassed, belated apologies, and makes a note to add it once they've eaten and Sally has returned home.

*

_I'm, I'm so in love with you_  
 _Whatever you want to do_  
 _Is alright with me_  
 _'Cause you make me feel, so brand new_  
 _And I want to spend my life with you_

Canton had been ready and willing to go to the courthouse the first day possible. He'd called his niece, and Emily was more than happy to bear witness and drag her husband and their kids along as well. Sally, too, had offered, and Canton said that was all he needed, but David rolled his eyes at the mere thought.

"How long have we been waiting for this thing?" he asked Canton that night as CNN reported on the aftermath of the vote. "If it was just a matter of having a piece of paper, we could have moved to Massachusetts or Iowa or something. The paper's not the important part. The celebrating's the important part."

Canton agreed, but he still didn't want to wait _long_ , so they're already only weeks away the morning David retrieves the _Times_ from the front step and sees a report about how many hundreds of marriage certificates were issued on July 24.

"We could have been one of those," Canton says, elbowing him and pointing at the headline. "We could have gone down in New York history."

"You didn't even _want_ to move to New York, remember?" David says. "I wouldn't think you'd be so keen to go down in New York history."

"You wore me down eventually," Canton says and David snorts. It wasn't wearing down so much as getting a job at Cedar-Sinai and giving Canton an ultimatum.

It hadn't even been a real fight. They'd been together for almost twenty years at that point. There really wasn't a question that they'd stay together.

"Hey," Canton says, as if reading David's mind, "That Al Green song, right?"

"Already on it," David says.

*

_Take me out tonight_  
 _Because I want to see people_  
 _And I want to see life_  
 _Driving in your car_  
 _Oh please don't drop me home_  
 _Because it's not my home, it's their home_  
 _And I'm welcome no more_

"I'm skipping the eighties," David says to Canton when he wanders into the office again, carrying an armful of books.

"You had terrible taste in music in the eighties," Canton says. "Kool and the Gang?"

"Says the only fifty year old man at a Smiths concert," David says.

"Morrissey is a great songwriter," Canton says. "The rebellious part of me that I repressed as a teenager could finally let loose."

"Repressed my ass," David says. "I've heard the stories of the arguments you had with your father. Hell, you told me those stories!"

"Still," Canton says. "That doesn't make Morrissey any less brilliant."

David rolls his eyes, but the part of him that always inevitably bows to Canton's will scrolls through to The Smiths and makes an addition anyway.

*

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_  
 _There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me_  
 _The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall_  
 _You say it best when you say nothing at all_

Emily Whitmore grew up at arm's length from Canton and David. David remembers meeting her just once in her first twelve years. Canton had been shot and was recovering at the house and David was waiting on him hand and foot because running around to buy ice cream and tomato soup distracted him from having a complete meltdown the way he had when he'd first gotten the news from Canton's father. He returned from an ice cream run to see a plain, expensive black sedan in the driveway. He assumed it was Canton's father, but when he walked around the back, bitching about being a goddamn delivery boy, Canton's sister, Elizabeth was standing stiffly on the porch. Emily was sitting on the swing with Canton, and stared curiously at David until her mother grabbed her arm and fled.

When she turned twelve, she began to write letters to Canton without her mother's knowledge. When she turned eighteen, she chose to attend college in New York City and became something of a staple in their lives. David still wonders, sometimes, how someone so kind and open-minded could have come out of a house as cold as the Whitmores', but then he remembers that Canton somehow broke away from a long line of very proper Delawares.

Emily got a job and got married and had two children, but even as she lived her own life, she never cut them out completely. She was the first person, outside of David's sister Sally, to accept them and who they were and what they meant to each other without any question. Even at twelve, her letters were frequently addressed to both of them. It was incredible, the first time he pulled one from the mailbox, seeing their names together like it was...normal.

Sally has two sons. David and Canton watched them grow up, get out, start their own families, but the relationship was never as intense as the one they have with Emily. She isn't quite a daughter, but she's much more than a niece.

Canton and David were invited to her wedding, much to her mother's disdain, and David shed a few tears as he watched her dance with her new husband. He took his own turn with her on the dance floor eventually, beaming at her and telling her how beautiful she looked.

"I'm so happy you're here, Uncle David," she said. "I don't know what I would have done for the past fifteen years without you and Uncle Canton."

He wanted to tell her what it meant to him that she never questioned them, that she was always there for them, that she let him so fully into her heart, but the words seemed thick and clumsy in his mouth.

She seemed to understand anyway and leaned up to kiss his cheek as the song changed.

"Go find Uncle Canton," she said. "I had them play this one for the two of you. I hope Andrew and I stay as happy as you guys are."

David can't remember the first song he and Canton danced to in public. Hell, he can't even remember the last song they danced to in public. But he remembers every second that the two of them shuffled across the dance floor, watching Emily in wonder while Alison Krauss played in the background.

*

_That's why, darling, it's incredible_  
 _That someone so unforgettable_  
 _Thinks that I am_  
 _Unforgettable, too._

There's a green post-it on David's computer when he wanders in to check the weather report before the leave for the beach.

"You know," he shouts into the hall, "You could just do this yourself instead of leaving me notes every day."

"Who says it's a suggestion for the music?" Canton appears in the doorway and leans comfortably against the door frame. The casual, smug slouch from his youth has hardly changed at all. "Maybe it's just a general compliment."

David rolls his eyes, but when Canton leaves to stash the cooler in the car, he sticks the post-it to the top of a silver picture frame that holds a photo of the two of them in their mid-forties and adds "Unforgettable" to the list anyway.

*

_I will sleep above the covers_  
 _I will love you like no other_  
 _I will be your dad and mother_  
 _I will give you older brothers_  
 _I will feed you fries with steak sauce_  
 _I will keep the price below the cost_  
 _I will lead the way from all is lost_  
 _I will keep the bad things from you_

He's never heard the song that's playing on the folk-y public radio station that Canton has the kitchen radio tuned to, but he sits at the table, pen poised over another of Canton's crosswords, and lets the lyrics wash over him.

"Are you stealing another one of my--"

"Ssh," David says, and Canton does as he's told.

David methodically copies down the artist and song when the DJ comes back on the air.

*

_And I can see kids, maybe yours, maybe not, ohohoh, I can hear what they'll say_  
 _Laughing at pictures with the old-fashioned hats and the clothes that we're wearing today_  
 _And they will know the true and humble power_  
 _Of love that made it through the darkest hour_

T-Minus a week until the wedding and David's still dragging his feet on the music. He's missing... something. He's just not sure what it is.

"Just call the man back and give him the list," Canton says. They're sitting on the back porch with Emily and Andrew, watching the kids have a water gun fight in an effort to beat the heat. "There's fifty years of history here. It's okay if you miss something."

"I want it to be a progression," David insists, and Canton waves at him dismissively.

"Fifty years," he repeats. "More than fifty. Fifty-five. If you list every song we've ever listened to together, we'll be there all night."

"I'm sure whatever you've chosen will be great, Uncle David," Emily says, and Canton looks at him as if to say, _See? She's on my side._ David lets the argument drop for the sake of his sanity (he's gotten very good at that in the past half century), but he doesn't put it out of his mind completely. It lingers through lunch and into the afternoon, when the kids escape into the air conditioned house, flipping idly through the television channels. It's Ali, Emily's oldest, who begins to sift through the pile of loose photographs on the coffee table.

"Uncle Canton, is this you?" she asks, holding up a yellowing snapshot from Canton's early days at the FBI. Canton squints at the picture in question.

"Yep," he says. "That's me and my father--your great grandfather--about a year after I joined the Bureau."

"You were cute!" Ali says with a mischievous smile. David can't help but agree. Young and bull-headed and determined to save the world. And he did, too, on more than one occasion, both inside the TARDIS and out of it.

Ali goes back to the pictures, seemingly more interested now that she's aware of their contents. "Oh my god, Uncle David, your _hair_! It's almost as bad as Uncle Canton's _pants_!"

"Those pants were the height of fashion in 1957," Canton protests. David peers at the photo with a smile. God, they were young.

"Uncle David," Emily says, "I think I might know what your list is missing."

He follows her into the guestroom where she plays him a song off of Ali's iPod. He knows the artist from Canton's hippie kitchen radio station and from frequent car trips with Emily and her brood, but the song is new to him and something in his chest seizes up as he listens to it.

"I'll have Ali get her computer and send it to you," Emily says, and David can only nod in response.

*

_Why would I stop loving you_  
 _a hundred years from now?_  
 _It's only time._  
 _It's only time._  
 _What could stop this beating heart_  
 _once it's made a vow?_  
 _It's only time._  
 _It's only time._

It's not the biggest or most extravagant wedding of the season, but it's the best wedding David's ever been to.

He might be a little biased, it being his wedding and all.

"No!" River protests when he makes the announcement to the Pond table (and David secretly thinks that showing up via TARDIS and thus outshining the grooms was a little tacky, but he's happy enough to see the Ponds that he doesn't mention it). "It was lovely, David."

"I love weddings!" the Doctor agrees, though he's made similar pronouncements about so many things that nearly got them killed in their travels that David is inclined to take his opinion with a grain of salt.

"It really was brilliant," Amy insists. "Well, maybe not as brilliant as _our_ wedding, but we had a TARDIS materialize in the middle of the reception."

"It's a bit hard to top," Rory says.

"And the music's great," Amy continues. "We went to my mate Alice's wedding a few--" She makes the face of a confused time-traveler. He's made the face himself more than once, trying to remember how long ago something happened in his own timeline versus how long ago it happened in linear time. "Well, it wasn't long ago. But the DJ played such crap music the whole time. It was like we were in a club, not a wedding."

"David picked the music," Canton says, resting a hand at the small of David's back. "Well, most of it. The important parts. Which reminds me." He moves his hand to David's elbow and gives it a squeeze. "I'll be right back."

David watches him go and repeats in his head, _That's my husband. That's my husband. That's my husband._

He doesn't know that he quite believes it. It's been a long time. This is something that he never imagined he'd have and now that he does he's not sure what to do with it. He remembers telling Canton off almost fifty years ago for making the asinine request to be able to marry him. He told him his head was in the clouds, that it was ludicrous. And it was, in 1969. It was a stupid way to lash out when his superiors were trying to get him in line, but it's 2011 and he's wearing a wedding band. If he thinks about it for too long, he gets dizzy.

Amy and Rory talk excitedly (but quietly) about their recent trip to Avetage Seven and David listens and keeps his comments about how much better their second trip in four years' time will be. He's about to bid them goodbye and move to the next table when Canton returns, smiling like he's up to something.

"You did a good job with the music," he says. "But I had a minor addition."

The song that starts playing is unfamiliar, but the opening lines tug his heart into his throat.

"Would you care to dance, Dr. Bishop?" Canton asks.

"I don't know," David says, clearing his throat. "My husband might object."

Canton preens a little at the title.

"Are you implying that we'll give him something to object to?" Canton asks, smirking.

"I certainly hope so," David says, and lets Canton lead him to the dance floor. The song is beautiful and it's the perfect time to hear it, happy and relaxed on a few glasses of champagne and the relief that comes with a successful party.

"I thought it was appropriate," Canton says, jerking his shoulder towards the speakers. "Us being time-travelers and all."

"Former time-travelers," David says, his voice a little rougher around the edges than usual.

"Well," Canton says. "About that. I know you wanted Italy for the honeymoon, but...."

David laughs. He should have seen this coming. Canton was entirely too blasé when the TARDIS appeared outside the botanical garden a few minutes before the ceremony was to begin.

"Is that a yes?" Canton asks. "A quick trip a hundred years in the future to prove that I'll still love you? A thousand? A hundred thousand?"

"You're getting sappy in your old age," David says.

"That's not an answer," Canton says.

"I believe you, even without the trip to the future," David tells him. He pauses. "But a trip in the TARDIS would be nice. For old times' sake. Italy can wait. It's only time, after all."

Canton smiles at that and pulls him closer. David thinks that if he loses every other memory attached to every other song he's ever heard, he'll never forget this one.

[((***Download the mix here ♥***))](http://www.mediafire.com/?8qwygkf20pzv1ww)


End file.
